Phases of the Sun
by flufflybunny
Summary: A series of ficbits set waay post Sunrise: Eragon won. What happens next is far from triumph. Heliocentrism
1. Legacy Pt One

The first in a sequence of ficlets set waaay post-Sunrise. Nasuada's son, breaking and learning.

Disclaimer: Really, not mine.

(Also this is v. likely to change soon as I'm not entirely happy with it. thoughts?)_  
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_Legacy (Pt. One):_

Tor is fifteen when he figures out that the King of Surda's not his _real _dad. To say that he loses it a bit would be an understatement of draconic proportions.

It goes like this (_'nth verse, same as the first)--_his mother loved someone not his father (whoever that stranger is, who shares his blood—he's not Tor's dad. That will never _not _be Orrin) and when he died she was pregnant. But by then the war was ended and then she married the King of her people's greatest ally, for safety and for allegiance, and to rule her people.

Maybe they even did sort of love each other, if not with that soul-rending love that destroyed his birth-father, but with a comfortable comradery—Selena is beautiful and bright and shining, the best of all of them; the people love her when she is born, three years after Tor.

There is, however, always something, something _wrong_ in Nasuada's eyes, and three days after Tor's fifteenth birthday he sneaks into his mother's second study and reads the love-letters.

They are thin white parchment, good-quality, and dotted with the signs of travel. They crackle under his touch. They read:

_My dearest Lady Nasuada,_

_Are you well? How is the baby?_

And then there is chatter, some of it idle and some about the state of Surdan crops and left-over war troops and then, right before his father's familiar scrawled signature-- _I'm sorry, Nasuada. I know you loved him._

Tor blinks twice, shuffles the papers back away where they had been, with no trace of his being there; goes out and gets drunk. He has a hangover the next morning, but the pain (_betrayal) _in his heart is worse. He drowns his sorrows (_and his soul_) in all the vices of youth—alcohol and sex and drugs and things he doesn't quite remember; though he always comes home sober (or appearing such); he doesn't want to worry his father. Even if there is lingering resentment simmering towards his mother, still, he doesn't let it slip that he knows her secret; he loves his dad, after all.

Selena looks at him with twelve-year eyes, guileless as ever—they're Orrin's blue, when all's said and done, and the jealousy in his stomach churns—she asks him why his breath smells funny. He stops coming home; writes brief notes and sends them home with his guards.

His mother knows why he's gone; when he drops in--to reassure them that he's alive and they don't have to send out the national guard—he waits until _after _Selena's asleep, though. Nasuada's eyes are weary and she says, tiredly, looking frail and almost small, "What do you want me to say?"

Tor doesn't know; that's not something he really considered. He lets his hand linger on the doorknob. "What was his name?"


	2. and we said these songs are true

Um. Second bit of Phases, though it'll be a bit jumpy, chronology-wise. Once they're all done I'll maybe go back and rearrange them, but for now I figure I may as well just post.

So in Legacy (Pt. One) we met Tor, son of Nasuada and Murtagh, and his angst. Shortly there will be Tor's sister, Selena, daughter of Nasuada and Orrin, but for now? Meet Lan, prince of Alagaesia.

Disclaimer: ...A lot of these people are OC's, but the ones you recognize belong to Chris Paolini. The title's from Paul Simon.

Also, I feel I should warn for slashy vibes. And stuff. ...Yeah. Review, please?

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_and we said these songs are true:_

Lan is the second son, the latter half of 'an heir and a spare'. His father is the king of Alagaesia, Roran Garrowson, originally of Carvahall; his mother is Queen Katrina. You may have heard of her; lady of the bright-copper hair and the summer-smile ring any bells?

Lan's full name is Prince Palancar III, Duke of Therinsford and Teirm, and a lot more tagging after that, but if he listed all the titles he'd be here for a month. Lan's brother, of course, is _obligated _to list all his; Prince Garrow of Alagaesia, heir-apparent to the throne of Alagaesia, husband of Princess Selena of Surda, can't appear _ever_ to not want his responsibilities. Which leaves Lan with an interesting opportunity; he slots nicely into the role of _brat_. With Garrow playing responsible heir, there's not much else for him to do.

He flops back on his bed, arms folded behind his head, floppy dark copper hair fanning out on his pillow, and stares at his ceiling. There are moths nesting in-between the rafters. He occupies himself watching dusky wings flutter, and resolutely doesn't mope.

There's a knock on his door, suddenly, and he perks up, jumping off his bed. "Come in," he says, happily.

The door creaks open and the man pushing it is bowled over by a lump of excited seventeen-year-old princeling. "Tor!"

"Shadeslayer, Lan," swears the man in question, currently flat on his back on hard stone floor with a couple hundred pounds of Alagaesian prince on his chest. "It's nice to see you, too, but at this rate? My back's going to break before I'm thirty."

Lan rolls his eyes and gets off his friend, holding out a slim-fingered pianist's hand. "C'mon," he says. "I'm not allowed out today cos they're afraid I'll disappear from whatever Confirmation's on, but I have dice? And you can tell me all about Surda, lately."

Tor, heir to Surda's throne, takes the proffered hand and pulls himself up. He says, "All right, then. Lead the way." There is a line nestled between his eyebrows; it says _worry _but Lan doesn't read it, which is perhaps for the best.

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After that ceremony's over—the Confirmation of some minor Duke, and Tor can't imagine a time when Roran was not every inch a King, playing politics with a deft silver-quick hand—Lan and Tor go back to Lan's rooms. Tor knows what kind of rumours he's spreading, being such good friends with the younger prince, but he and Lan have something special, something _rare_ and he'll be damned before he lets _gossip _come between them.

Lan breezes into his room like a summer wind, light and impermanent, leaving no trance of his being there when he heads to his bathroom, dropping words over his shoulder-- "Be back in a heartbeat; just need to get out of these clothes--"

Tor grins and drops into an armchair; he's here in a purely unofficial capacity, so he's not wearing any especial finery—unlike Lan, who's in full princely regalia. Lan's purple cloak hits him in the chest. He coughs, and laughs; folds the thing and puts it on an oak table.

The sound of running water fills the air; Lan taking advantage of palace plumbing to get clean. Tor gets up and wanders to Lan's balcony, shedding outer-robes as he goes. He leans out into the cool night air, thinking. He doesn't miss home, not like 'Lena does; not at all. He's not cut out to be a King, and after twenty-one years of Tor being a wreck at anything _involving _Royal Duty, he'd think his parents would have realized and skipped him over for his sister, already.

A bird chirps, out in the gardens, and the scent of the spring flowers rises up to Tor. He rests his elbows on the railing and closes his eyes. There's a hand on his shoulder, then; he turns around and something in his back _clicks_. He winces.

So does Lan, padding to his side, copper hair damp, loose cotton shirt half-sliding off his shoulder. "Er," he says. "Maybe I won't tackle you quite so often?"

Tor says, "That might be good." His eyes drift over Lan's face (so maybe there's some element of truth to the rumours; it's not like they're not both consenting adults—or, you know, that there's anything to be consented to) and he runs a hand through his own dark hair. "Sleep now, maybe?"

Lan grins. "Wandering, tomorrow?"

Tor says, "Saphira, yes." This is a little of what Tor loves about Lan; both of them are stuck, trapped in royal lines they don't belong in; Lan with his music and his fire, smothered like _that_ by the simple matter of his blood; Tor himself—mage and dreamer, and neither of those kinglike traits. 'Lena and Garrow would never dream of doing this; slipping out of their royal names and just _being, drifting _for a day or so, and they wouldn't understand; Lan does.

They curl up in bed, Lan using Tor for a pillow and Tor falls asleep to the rhythm of Lan's heart beating, thinking of songbirds in gilded cages.


	3. Lineage Pt One

Next part! (Because Selena is quite a little brain-eater.-pets her-)

So last time was Lan and Tor being slightly emo and quite useless, as far as understanding their sibs goes. However, they are cute so I forgive them.

This chapter is Selena, Tor's baby sister. She is kind of a nerd. Um. Tell me if she's a Sue? And then tell me how to fix her? 'Cos it's waaay easier to write Sues that are the same sex as you and I am quite fond of her. Also, it is quite useful for this and further Selena-bits if you have read Ever After. Just a heads-up. You know. Not digging for reviews or anything:D.

Next time will be Garrow, Selena's husband and heir to the throne of Alagaesia. Yay?

Disclaimer: ...Mostly OC's, but you know the drill. Anyone you recognize is Paolini's.

(Reviews are always for the good.)

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_Lineage (Pt. One):_

Selena is twelve when she discovers the truth behind the myth; reading through Surda's main library (which is the best library on the continent, (and woefully inadequate) thanks to that book-burner Galbatorix—and 'Lena's read all the apologist literature; can even buy that a lot of what he did was for the greater good, but burning books? _That _she'll never forgive him for), the smallest person there, pushing along her ladder to read the best books at the top of the shelves.

Selena read the _Domia abr Wyrda _when she was nine, and promptly pronounced it a crock of shit to the surprise and horror of the court, and the fond smiles of her parents, King Orrin and Queen Nasuada of Surda. 'Lena's one of the most intelligent people to live on the Alagaesian continent in _centuries,_ and she knows it; however it is a rather irritating fact that she is a) female and b) a princess, both of which mean, obviously, that she can't be as academic as she'd like.

When 'Lena is twelve, her brother makes a startling discovery about his parentage and he gets drunk a lot; 'Lena is startled too, but she hides it better and buries herself in the library, refusing to come out, drowning herself in leather and dust and old books. She picks a topic at random and reads voraciously; today it's elves.

No one on the Alagaesian continent believes in elves, anymore; everyone knows that they went over the sea with the Shadeslayer and his elf-princess lover, but she's always liked the stories.

So obviously 'Lena is a bit perturbed when she finds out that, according to _Lysander's Encyclopae__dia of Alagaesia,_ if she were to do _this _spell and _this _one, and then wander in the elf-forest _(Du Weldenvarden, _say the old stories), she'd probably come across an elf or two; she puts that information aside as out-of-date, but stores it in the back of her mind (just in case).

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Selena has no cause to use this information (to be honest she believes it's a hoax) but when she's eighteen it's finally decided that she and Prince Garrow of Alagaesia are to be married. And she loves Garrow dearly; he's her best friend (has been since they were first introduced and their brothers tried to burn down the room they were in, and they exchanged identical tired gazes) but she doesn't _love _love him and sometimes she really _hates _being royalty.

Selena decides, making a choice on a whim for the first time in her life, to go for a wander in the forest; after she's married, she knows, she'll have even less freedom and she'd like to find out the truth before that. If there is a truth to find.

It's possibly the stupidest, most reckless thing she's ever done; 'Lena doesn't make decisions on a whim. She almost throws up, twice, the day she's due to sneak out; she almost reconsiders but both her parents' stubbornness runs through her veins and she grits her teeth and gets the job _done_.

She takes her favourite horse, Amber, so her parents will know she hasn't been kidnapped (Amber's lovely—to Selena—and she hates everyone else; no kidnapper in their right mind would get _near _Amber in a bad mood. Scratch that; _no-one _in their right mind would get near Amber, full stop), and a spare, Blue; also enough food for a month even though she plans to be gone maybe a week, at most—it'll weigh them down but 'Lena can't actually hunt (she has an aversion to killing things. It's generally not a problem, but it means she won't be able to shoot a deer, even if it's a life/death matter) and she's not sure how much use an encyclopaedic knowledge of which Surdan roots are edible will help. She sticks a knife in her belt; if worse comes to worse she knows how to incur non-life-threatening injuries that are still debilitating, and a several sets of clothes as well as soap go into her saddlebags, and then she sets out.

The moon is hanging high above her as she settles onto Amber's back and braids her long dark hair, tying it off and flicking it over her shoulder when she's done. One last glance at the palace, and a cursory check of her inventory—knife, food, water, clothes, bedding, the things she needs for her spell—and she urges Amber into a canter and Blue keeps up.

She takes a deep breath once they're out of city constraints, a weight lifted from her shoulders, and anticipation settles in her heart.


End file.
